A Greater Duty (Galaxy Ascendant Book 1)

by Yakov Merkin

  Both Nayasar and Felivas had been actively conversing ever since Darkclaw had arrived, while he had seen fit only to speak when something was directed toward him. Conversing while eating made little sense to him; it needlessly prolonged a necessary biological process, nothing more. But it was apparently a common thing to do among the Felinaris, and they seemed to enjoy doing so.

  “So do you think you’ll take part in the landing on Darvia?” Nayasar asked him.

  “I believe I will,” Darkclaw replied, perhaps too quickly. Despite the near disaster, Nayasar had been right about there being something visceral to the fighting on the ground that did not exist when commanding a fleet in space. “However, I think I will do without leading the entire operation.”

  Felivas laughed. “You’re definitely wiser than most,” he said, with a pointed glance toward Nayasar, who responded by simply pointing at the badge on the left of her chest which marked her rank. Felivas laughed again. “Point taken, Grand Admiral. I won’t question your decisions again for as long as I… have wine in this glass,” he said before quickly draining it. Nayasar flicked a small piece of food at him and muttered something in Felinari. Felivas replied and they began a rapid back-and-forth that Darkclaw did not attempt to decipher. It would likely be wise for him to invest in a universal translator, or learn their language.

  While a significant part of him wished to learn more about the Felinaris, how to better understand their interactions and how to interact with them, Darkclaw knew that the time was coming close to when he would speak with the High Lord again, which would lead to the complete suppression of Darkclaw’s emotions, which would kill the desire to interact with the Felinaris. If it was to happen it would need to be soon; before long Darkclaw would likely come to fully accept the feelings’ existence, which would be beyond dangerous. “Furthermore, if the both of us fight on the ground again, we must be in separate locations. The enemy should not be again given the chance to kill or capture the both of us at once.”

  “I will second that suggestion,” Felivas said immediately. “I feared the worst when I learned that the two of you had gone missing. And it almost did not end well.”

  “What’s there to worry about?” Nayasar asked, her tone shifting in a familiar fashion as she reclined in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “The executor and I can take care of ourselves, as I’m sure we proved yesterday. Oh, and Felivas? Would you care to remind me what our current life-saving score is?” Nayasar concluded with what Darkclaw could only describe as a threatening smile.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Felivas replied, setting down his three-pronged eating utensil. “My point, however, is that when you… care about someone, you’re concerned for their safety. I’m sure you would feel similarly if I was the one who dropped off the battle network, didn’t respond to communication attempts and then reappeared miles away in enemy territory. We had to literally drop Tyrannodon soldiers onto the enemy in order to clear a path to you.”

  Darkclaw watched the latest exchange between the two Felinaris closely. There was far more to their relationship than being colleagues could account for. It was clear from how they acted around each other when compared to how they acted when separate. Of course, Darkclaw could not pinpoint exactly what it meant. He had considered asking several times already, but a part of him felt that it was not his place… uncomfortable. Darkclaw shoved the offending feeling away. What did the nature of their relationship matter to him? Before long he would purge himself of the emotions and curiosity, and some time after that the time would come for the Felinaris to submit to the rule of the High Lord. But why, then, the compulsion to understand the Felinaris?

  “I have absolutely no intention of being teleported away from my army again,” Nayasar said.

  Felivas leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  “Fine,” Nayasar sighed. “I promise I’ll be more careful. I can’t make any promises about the executor, however, and if he puts himself in a situation I’ll have no choice but to support him.”

  Darkclaw turned toward Nayasar, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Need I remind you that I was involved in the surface action only because I unwisely agreed to your request?” His voice was still properly level, or at least he was fairly sure that it was. It was not something easily discernible, and Darkclaw felt a need to pay close attention; in light of the emotion flashes, he did not trust his voice to mask what was happening.

  Nayasar smiled. “Normally I’d point out that you made the choice to come down freely, no coercion involved. However, I’m too caught up in your rapidly developing sense of humor.” Before Darkclaw could correct her, Nayasar spun toward Felivas. “I forgot to tell you!” she exclaimed. “Darkclaw has a sense of humor you’d appreciate, witty comments while under fire. One was, ‘there’s a tank waiting for us on the other side of the wall,’” Nayasar began, apparently attempting to mimic Darkclaw’s voice, with little success as she attempted to keep her face blank, “we’re fortunate they wish to capture us alive.’ And then, I made a comment about the Algen not being able to hit anything in the dark just before they got the lights back on. His response? ‘I wonder if your deity has a sense of irony in addition to his alleged desire to protect you.’” Nayasar then dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

  Felivas started to laugh too. “It seems you do have a sense of humor, and a good one at that. Was Nayasar right all along?” he asked

  “I have explained to you several times now that I do not have emotions, and therefore I cannot be humorous by design,” Darkclaw insisted. “If you choose to interpret a remark I make as humorous, that is your subjective opinion. It does not make your conclusion valid.” He hoped he had not spoken too forcefully.

  Nayasar made what Darkclaw could only describe as a half smile, then raised her hands in mock surrender. “I did say I was going to test to see if you truly could feel emotions, I just didn’t say when. The battle on Algen was that test, and the results were interesting, as you can see.”

  “Point, Nayasar,” Felivas said quietly, but loud enough to be clearly audible.

  “I do not see what that has to do with—” Darkclaw began before he was cut off.

  “Fine, fine,” Nayasar said. “You’ve made it clear that you truly cannot feel emotions, despite some discrepancies. If it bothers you, I’ll stop trying to provoke you into displaying emotion. Just tell me if you want me to.”

  Finally! Why could Nayasar not have proposed this sooner? Darkclaw was about to gladly agree with the proposal when he stopped and made himself think through the decision, aware that some bit of emotion were clearly influencing his immediate reaction. While it was obvious that he desired for the constant pestering to stop, Nayasar’s regular attempts would provide a good cover should the Felinaris catch him betraying some feeling during an emotion flash. True, some damage would still be done; they would know that he was capable of feeling something, and Nayasar would never stop taking credit for the emotion, but at least they would not know what was truly happening.

  Yes, that would be the better option, as much as Darkclaw loathed the confusing and irritating attempts. The lesser evil.

  There was another advantage to allowing Nayasar to continue as before, Darkclaw realized a moment later. This would be an opportunity to make the Felinaris unsure about his reasoning, as they both clearly expected him to accept Nayasar’s proposal. It was a very satisfying thought. No, it was more than simply satisfying. For some reason, the prospect of confusing Nayasar filled Darkclaw with a pleasant feeling that was likely similar to what she felt when she was confusing him, or Felivas. At least some emotions were tolerable. Darkclaw chose to let the feeling linger for a moment before dispelling it; soon he would be free of emotion once more, and he may as well experience the pleasant ones as well as the unpleasant, if only to better understand emotional beings in the future.

  “Feel free to continue as you were, Grand Admiral. Your actions do not, cannot bother me, and I wou
ld not want to deprive you of the pleasure you seem to take in them.”

  The Felinaris were uncharacteristically silent for a long moment, and Darkclaw took the opportunity to take another bite of the food, some sort of meat. It had taken more assurances than he had expected in order to make it clear to the Felinaris that he would not have any averse reactions to any of their food. Darkclaw himself was not quite sure how he knew that his digestive system could handle nearly anything—it was something he simply intuitively knew. It could have been reasoned logically as well—the Saviors would not have created a perfect race that could fall to something as simple and primitive as a food sensitivity or poison.

  “Did you expect a different response?” he asked when the Felinaris remained quiet.

  “Well, yeah, I guess we did,” Nayasar replied. “Usually, people try and get annoying things to stop. But then, I suppose you’re not usual.”

  Felivas smiled. “Nayasar,” he said, “if I were you I would stop trying to trip up the good executor. He always seems to land on his feet. You, on the other hand…”

  Nayasar set her eating utensil down. “Challenge accepted.” She extended her hand toward Felivas, palm up. He hesitated for a moment, then reached over and placed his right hand on top of hers and clasped it.

  “You have three days,” he said.

  “Winner declares the prize,” Nayasar replied immediately, gripping Felivas’s hand more tightly than Darkclaw thought necessary. She looked very pleased with herself. A moment later they let go, and Felivas sighed.

  “Was there something that I missed?” Darkclaw asked.

  “I guess so,” Felivas said. “I apologize in advance, Executor. You would have been better off if you had asked Nayasar to stop.”

  “I am still unable to understand what just happened,” Darkclaw said. He gathered that Nayasar and Felivas had made some sort of deal or wager at his expense—that much was obvious—but he was unable to determine what that entailed.

  “To put it simply, Nayasar is going to try and catch you having an emotional reaction to something which you cannot play off as something else. If she does, she wins, if not, I do. It’s just a silly wager. If you don’t want to be a part of it, we can annul the whole thing.”

  “Are you trying to crawl your way out of our bet already?” Nayasar asked in a blatantly threatening tone.

  “No,” Felivas replied. “It’s just that the executor is essentially the ball in this competition, it would not be fair of us to force him to be a part of this.”

  Nayasar shook her head. “Sometimes I really wonder how you ever beat me at Art of War.” Darkclaw did not recognize the term. It must have been some sort of competition or game.

  Felivas smiled and twirled his eating utensil around his fingers. “The answer is simple. I’m just better. For example,” he turned toward Darkclaw. “Darkclaw, all you need to do is respond to anything Nayasar says to you over the next three days, no matter how strange. Then this will all be over with.” Felivas turned back to Nayasar. “And would you care to remind me who won our last three sparring matches? And our last four Art of War games?”

  Nayasar scowled and stabbed a piece of meat still on her plate with her knife. “You won’t be laughing later,” she said menacingly, pointing the knife at Felivas.

  “We’ll see,” Felivas said calmly, with a shrug. Nayasar replied by eating the piece of meat directly off of the knife, and Darkclaw felt an emotion flash come on, as well as a realization. The emotion flash was not the strongest one that he had felt, but it was unique in that Darkclaw knew at once both what it was, and why he was feeling it.

  “Both of you do realize,” he said to both Felinaris, “that in the end, I will be the determining factor in your contest.” There was more to it, however. Darkclaw had understood just about all of the preceding conversation, including many of the things the pair of Felinaris said without speaking. It was as though the last piece of a puzzle, the last bit of code, had been put into its place somehow.

  Darkclaw felt happy. Happy to be spending time with his Felinaris companions. While Darkclaw knew that by admitting this feeling and allowing it to remain he was only making his situation more precarious, a strong part of him wanted it to remain, at least for a short period of time. Before Darkclaw could decide what to do, however, Nayasar interrupted his thoughts.

  “If you don’t mind, Darkclaw, I have a question to ask you.”

  Darkclaw quickly turned his gaze to Nayasar. “By all means,” he replied.

  “Is Darkclaw your only name?” Nayasar asked. “Actually, a better question would be: Do you have a second name? A first name or a surname?”

  “No, I do not. Darkclaw was the name granted to me by the High Lord; it is who I am,” Darkclaw said. “And what I am,” he added a moment later, displaying the black claws on one of his hands.

  “Then how would you be able to tell if someone is related to you?” Nayasar asked. “And how would you differentiate between two people who have the same name? I mean, the Snevans seem to manage it, but they can differentiate things in their own language, somehow.”

  “Your society developed needing multiple names,” Darkclaw replied. “Mine does not. Clones do not have recognized names; only the thousand of us who are not cloned were granted proper names.” Darkclaw paused for a moment as he came to a realization. While there was no need for second names now, in the future, as the Tyrannodon race grew, it would become a necessity. Surely the High Lord knew that. Then why had he not granted them second names? Perhaps he should ask the High Lord that question when the spoke after Darvia was conquered.

  “There are only a thousand of your kind that are not clones?” Felivas asked, clearly surprised.

  Darkclaw had never mentioned that fact to the Felinaris before, and he had not meant to. He was becoming too open with them, letting the emotions run amok. The damage was done in this case, however.

  “It is true,” Darkclaw admitted. “Only the thousand of us were preserved and enhanced by the Saviors. As soon as this war is concluded to the High Lord’s satisfaction, we will take a planet and begin to naturally increase the number of our species. The clones will only serve as soldiers for any future action the High Lord wishes to embark on.

  “So I would assume then that few of them are involved in your war effort,” Felivas said.

  Darkclaw nodded. “You are correct. There are only a few of us, in command positions. The rest are in a safe location, where they will remain until the war ends.” Darkclaw paused. He had been too close to mentioning Selixan station. The Felinaris could not be made aware of its location. However, a part of Darkclaw did not see any achievement in preserving the secret.

  “Once we’re done with the Alliance,” Nayasar interjected, “we can give you any assistance you require in settling yourselves on a home world; if you plan to repopulate without using the clones it will take a great deal of time.”

  “We could probably even host you on Felinar until you choose a suitable world for yourselves,” Felivas added.

  For a few long moments, Darkclaw was silent. He was at a complete loss as to how to respond, and to make matters worse, he was almost overcome by intense feeling of guilt. The Felinaris truly viewed him as a friend and ally; they had proven it again and again both on the battlefield and now here with their selfless offers of assistance. Darkclaw simply did not understand how it had come to this: the irrational, emotion-driven species were being completely true, while he, operating—at least ostensibly—without clouded judgment…. If any other species, inferior or otherwise, deserved a chance to exist and determine their own path, it was the Felinaris.

  Darkclaw immediately recognized that the High Lord would make no exceptions, however, and that even the mere thought of allowing the Felinaris to remain under their own rule could be considered borderline treason. It would be a sad day, Darkclaw knew, when time came for the Felinaris to bend the knee. Darkclaw subdued the feeling as much as he was able before replying.


  “Your offer is very generous,” was all he could say while ensuring he did not slip. Darkclaw did not think he was capable, in his compromised state, of directly lying to the Felinaris about what would happen once the Galactic Alliance fell—there was a greater chance that he would tell them the unpleasant truth. Darkclaw’s feeling of sadness was then suddenly joined by another that he could not name immediately, but recognized from the battle on Algen, just before he had been about to run to the enemy-held building without covering fire. The High Lord could see his reluctance as treasonous, and Darkclaw did not think he could argue with that. He had to leave, immediately.

  Darkclaw rose from his chair. “I apologize, Grand Admiral, Admiral,” he said, nodding to each in turn, “but I must depart to oversee the preparation of my forces.”

  Fortunately, his voice did not betray anything—at least he did not think it did—but he only maintained control with effort. It really was not right that he would have to betray—no, I cannot think of the alternative.

  “Really?” Nayasar asked, checking her chronometer. “It’s barely been an hour. Surely you can spare a little more time.

  “I apologize,” Darkclaw repeated, “but there is a minor issue regarding a number of my officers that I must deal with personally. I thank you for your invitation and apologize for my abrupt departure. I will contact you once my preparations are complete.”

  When neither Felinaris immediately responded, Darkclaw took the opportunity to leave the room, probably a bit too quickly, but he just had to get out. Once outside, he paused for a moment, then made his way to the hangar where his shuttle was docked. The walk was quick; Darkclaw had memorized the path to the dining room when Nayasar and Felivas had led him there earlier. They had walked at an easy pace then, giving Darkclaw time to admire both the efficient design and intriguing decoration of the Felinar. Now, however, he did not allow himself to linger.